


The Alternate-Doubles' Christmas Party

by Shadow_Side



Category: Portal (Video Game), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Christmas fic, Crack Fic, Crossover, F/F, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:41:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Side/pseuds/Shadow_Side
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time and reality have been put to rights, science is restored, Night Vale is saved, and now… it's Christmas. And there's only one thing Kevin wants this year. Well, two things. And then that other thing…</p>
<p>[Set in <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/60862">Eye & Aperture 'verse</a>, several weeks after <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1138979">Bring Your Scientist To Work Day</a>, but posted as a stand-alone because of <i>reasons</i>.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Alternate-Doubles' Christmas Party

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so here's the thing: apparently I have some sort of problem wherein I can't stop. This one is set in Eye & Aperture 'verse but for the love of _Einstein_ please don't consider it canon! This is not (reasonably) sensibly-plotted character development plus science and the occasional paradox. This is crack, plain and simple, and I hold my hands up freely and admit it.
> 
> That being said… I still appear to be writing it. And if you're reading this, I also appear to have a) finished it and b) posted it. So… maybe now would be a good time to send round the nice people in white coats..? Before I get any worse?
> 
> It's _Night Vale_ -centric because it's the relationships between the core quintet – as established in E&A 'verse – that I most wanted to mess about with. That being said, the _Portal_ team do make an appearance or two, because if I'm playing in their 'verse, how could they not?
> 
> Many thanks once again to Davechicken for the beta, for putting up with how utterly insane this 'verse is apparently making me, and for the latest (and most awesome) in this collection of lovely banners!
> 
> Warnings for: Kevin. Kevin is now a warning. Also significant misbehaviour, rampant flirting, excessive consumption of alcohol, wheat as a metaphor for drugs, wholly inappropriate party games and… ah… the aftermath of sexy funtimes. Shush.
> 
> Also, yes, this is Christmas fic and, yes, I realise I am posting it _after_ Christmas. This is because it is set after the final _actual_ part of The Eye And The Aperture (Bring Your Scientist To Work Day) but seeing as I started writing this before I'd finished that, I had to wait to post this, time being what it is. Or isn't.
> 
> …Shush! I'll stop rambling now and let them take over. I'll leave you to decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing.
> 
> And. Oh. I apologise in advance.
> 
>  

Life's great events start with meaningful things like dreams or explosions, or visitors from beyond time. Invariably, life's _less_ great events start with _less_ meaningful things, like shopping. Or phone calls.

This one does. This one starts with the ringing of Cecil's phone, when he's midway through writing out Christmas cards. He's at work, but he's got a good few minutes due to an extended commercial break and that makes this an excellent time to get another handful of cards written, especially given that the continuing ban on all writing implements makes this yearly task just that extra bit more challenging.

As his phone rings he picks it up at once, assuming that it will be Carlos. After having put it off for days and days due to _science_ and other such priorities, his beautiful and perfect boyfriend has finally had to come to terms with the fact that his Christmas shopping is not going to do itself (despite his insistence that it must be possible to invent a machine to do it for him). So Cecil guesses this will be the scientist in question, either calling to report his astounding success or – more likely – calling to bemoan the fact that things are not going well.

But as he looks at the caller ID, Cecil realises that it isn't Carlos at all. It's someone else. Someone else whose number he wishes he didn't have and keeps meaning to delete… except that it helps to have it all the same so he can be emotionally prepared in case of calls from said number's owner.

Said number's owner who is apparently ringing him right now.

Why does it have to be him? Why does it have to be _Steve Carlsberg_?

Cecil scowls and takes the call. "What do you want, Steve?" he says at once, without indulging in any pleasantries. "I'm terribly busy and important."

"You're on an extended commercial break," Steve replies. "I do actually listen to the show, you know."

"I'm surprised you don't just tape it and listen to _his_ show live instead."

"Kevin usually broadcasts at a different time from you," Steve points out. "So I can do both."

"Imagine my delight. Now please get to the point."

Even over the phone, Cecil can tell Steve is scowling right back at him. "If it was up to me, I wouldn't be having this conversation with you," he says. "I really, really wouldn't. But I made the mistake of trying to be a _good_ boyfriend and asked Kevin and Tomas what they wanted for Christmas."

"Is this about to get creepy?" Cecil interrupts. "Because if it is, I might have to put you on hold for an hour or so whilst I psyche myself up."

"It's not going to get anywhere if you don't let me finish," Steve grouses. "Now. Tomas was fine – I mean, he's a scientist and they have normal hobbies, as I'm sure you know – but Kevin… Kevin wanted something a little more awkward."

"Blood?" Cecil interrupts again. "Your non-existent firstborn? To completely ravage all of Night Vale only to have it undone by time travel and then not get blamed for it because 'oh, it didn't really happen'? _Oh wait_..!"

"No!" Steve throws back, and then takes a deep breath, as if he's trying to psyche up to saying something different… which is worrying all on its own. "No. What Kevin wants… is a Christmas party."

"Well, that's pleasingly… normal," Cecil replies, somewhat suspiciously. "You have fun with that. Try to get him to go at least an hour without summoning that demon of his."

"See… here's the thing," Steve goes on, not even rising to the bait a little… which means he's about to say something major. "Kevin was already _getting_ a Christmas party. I promised him one ages ago. What he really wants… is for you and Carlos to come as well."

For about five seconds, Cecil is completely incapable of forming words. He just about manages to breathe, but it takes some effort. And then he collapses into laughter, the idea simply too insane to even contemplate. "Oh, he really has lost it this time!" he exclaims. "My maniac double seriously thinks… he seriously thinks we'll… oh. Wait. You wouldn't even risk suggesting this unless you had some sort of scheme in place. What are you three up to this time?"

"Oh, nothing," Steve replies, a little too off-hand. "But he's not dumb, your double. Not dumb at all. He knows what he wants, and he knows _I'm_ the only one who can get it for him. So here's the thing, Cecil… you and Carlos are coming to my Christmas party. There will be food, drinks, and absolutely no interference by Illuminati monitoring drones thanks to my new security system."

"And if I refuse?"

"If you refuse… I'll tell _everyone_ why you and I don't get on."

"…You wouldn't _dare_."

"Try me, Cecil. _Try me_."

There's a long, difficult silence. Cecil knows full-well that _that_ story reflects worse on him than it does on Steve, although it still doesn't reflect well on Steve. Usually this is enough to keep the man quiet, but apparently… not so much this time.

"…Fine," Cecil mutters, very quietly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Steve replies.

"I said _fine_!" Cecil repeats, raising his voice somewhat. "Fine! You can tell my maniac double that we'll come, provided _on no account_ do we have to go anywhere _near_ Desert Bluffs at any point. I have seen enough blood and viscera this year to last several lifetimes, thank you very much."

"Oh, don't you worry," Steve says, with a flicker of a cheery edge that he's definitely picked up from Kevin, "it will be at my place. Neutral territory. Plus I have the anti-Illuminati thing."

Cecil facepalms. "Just tell me when. It better not be too soon, because I need time to work out how to break the news to Carlos."

"Next Tuesday night."

"…That's Christmas Eve."

"And you're always saying time doesn't exist!" Steve replies. "Well, I can't wait. Me, my boyfriends, and my boyfriends' insane doubles. What could _possibly_ go wrong?"

But it's clear from his voice he's not exactly thrilled with the idea either.

"…Try not to fall in any spike pits, Steve," Cecil says, dryly, and hangs up before the man can make things worse.

Oh. Oh, this is so very not good. Maybe he and Carlos should just fake their own deaths, or claim they got stuck in Aperture for days, or…

…oh, there's no way out of this, is there?

***

As he goes to the weather – a while later – Cecil's phone rings again. He picks it up, brightening when he sees that this time it _is_ Carlos calling… but then realising he's got to break the news to the man.

"Hey, you," Carlos says. "I think I might actually be done here. I may have been responsible for a very _small_ fire, but that old lady had it coming…"

"…You started a _fire_?" Cecil replies, a little stunned.

"…I'm joking," Carlos tells him. "What's gotten into you? You were in such a good mood this morning. A _very_ good mood, if I recall…"

"I… uh… something sort of bad may have happened…" Cecil starts out.

"Oh, merciful Einstein," Carlos says. "It's GLaDOS, isn't it? Did she ring you up and demand help with some scientific calamity? It's… oh no. No. Cecil. Tell me it's not another miniature star..?"

"No, no, nothing like that," Cecil reassures him hastily. "It wasn't GLaDOS. That would have been preferable. No. It was… it was _Steve Carlsberg_."

"…Ah," Carlos replies. "I see. What did our doubles' inexplicable boyfriend want?"

Cecil goes quiet. He knows it's a very telling silence, but he isn't sure how else to do this.

"…Cecil?" Carlos prompts, sounding a little worried now. "What's happened?"

"…Steve… he… he invited us to his Christmas party."

Carlos goes quiet for a long moment. "…He… wait, _what_?"

"He invited us to his Christmas party," Cecil repeats. "Apparently… apparently it's what _Kevin_ wants for Christmas. He wants Steve to throw a party that includes you and me."

"And he thought we'd _agree_?" Carlos asks, incredulous. "He does remember the part where Kevin zapped us into a dark future in which all of Night Vale was destroyed and a lot of people got horribly killed?"

"Oh, he remembers," Cecil says.

"So… why even bother asking?"

"…Because he has… he has… he has _leverage_ , OK?"

"…Cecil, you're worrying me a little," Carlos says, the concern obvious in his voice. "What sort of leverage?"

Cecil tells him. It takes longer than he would like.

"…I… OK, that's…" Carlos tries, then pauses, and Cecil is sure his boyfriend must be facepalming right now. "…We're not getting out of this, are we?"

"I don't think so," Cecil answers. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Carlos attempts to reassure him. "It isn't your fault your double is a deranged maniac who can swing from blood-and-hellfire to wanting to see us for Christmas in half a heartbeat. We'll just have to try not to end the world this time."

"I think ending the world might be preferable," Cecil mutters.

"…When is it, anyway?"

"Christmas Eve."

"…Doesn't ask a lot, does he?"

"He would have been better off asking for blood!"

"…Don't tempt fate. Well. I'm going to finish off in this den of insanity and then head home, before I _do_ actually start a small fire."

"I shouldn't be too much longer here," Cecil tells him. "I'm going to need cheering up when I get back, though."

And if nothing else, the grin in Carlos' tone lifts Cecil's mood. "Oh, I'm sure I can think of a few ways…"

***

Carlos does indeed manage to cheer Cecil up more than a little. More than once, too. And it helps to remember that – hideous social calamity or no – they are at least in this together.

Still. When Christmas Eve finally rolls around, it doesn't make things much easier. They drive out of Night Vale in Cecil's car – which he hopes will give him a good excuse to stay away from the alcohol, if nothing else – and head up towards Steve Carlsberg's house, on the edge of the desert.

"Is that..?" Carlos mutters, as they get close. "What _is_ he doing?"

It's dark already, but ahead they can see coloured lights moving about because someone is in the process of hanging them up outside Steve's house, all along the porch and even draped over some of the lower prongs on his giant radio antenna.

"…Oh no," says Cecil. "That's Kevin. What _is_ he up to?"

They pull up next to Steve's tan Corolla and step out. The moment they do, Kevin turns from what he's doing, bouncing on his heels in excitement. "You made it! Merciless Azatothoth, I'm so glad to see you. It's been weeks!"

"It could never be long enough, Kevin," Cecil deadpans. "What _are_ you doing?"

"I'm putting up Christmas lights," Kevin replies, as if this was obvious. Which – to be fair – it sort of is. "Steve didn't have any outside. He said it would make the house too easy for the helicopters to spot, but I told him if _I'm_ here then the helicopters will _already_ have spotted the place so the point is kinda moot. So I said I'd bring some over to make the place more festive for tonight!"

"…That's very thoughtful of you," Carlos manages. "Just one thing…"

"Yes, beautiful Carlos?"

Carlos facepalms. "OK, _two_ things. One: don't call me that. And two: why are all the lights blood-red?"

"Because it's festive!"

"…Kevin. Do those lights have _actual_ blood on them?"

Kevin claps a hand over his heart. "Of course not. It's inside. Latest Strex model. These ones are _completely_ safe."

Now it's Cecil's turn to facepalm. "But they have _blood_ in them!"

"So? It's not human."

"…And that makes it better?" Carlos exclaims.

"Would you _prefer_ it was human?"

There's little in the world worse than Kevin with a valid point. "…Touché," Carlos manages.

"Exactly," Kevin says, brightly. "Now. You go on in. Tomas has been making mulled wine and it smells _delicious_."

"Anything's better than making small talk with the maniac," Cecil mutters.

"What was that?" Kevin asks, still ever so bright. It's the kind of brightness that surely preceded the tearing open of dimensions in that terrible, dark future.

"…Merry Christmas, Kevin," Cecil manages.

"Merry Christmas, Cecil!" Kevin replies.

Thankfully, Carlos manages to direct Cecil in through the door before this can escalate any further. Steve glances up as they walk in, midway through hanging baubles on his Christmas tree: baubles that turn out to be little eyes of providence and mini squares and compasses, and one that looks very much like it might be the emblem of the CIA.

Before Cecil has to work out what to say to Steve, Tomas comes bounding out of the kitchen. He's wearing one of his usual lab coats along with a Santa hat, and carrying a steaming glass filled with what looks – and smells – like mulled wine.

"There you are!" he exclaims. "Carlos, I need your help."

"The last time one of you lot said that to me, I ended up trapped in a dark future after running away from spike plates for the best part of two hours," Carlos points out, deadpan.

"I know, I know," Tomas concedes. "And I feel _awful_ about that, I really do. But you need to let bygones be bygones, at least for tonight. This is an _emergency_."

"…An emergency?"

"Yes! You're a scientist, you'll understand. Have you made mulled wine before?"

"…Quite a lot, actually. Back in college I was known as… OK, no, you don't need to hear that story."

"You can tell it later!" Tomas exclaims, beaming. "Right now I need your help on a matter of the utmost urgency."

"…Which is?"

"Cinnamon."

"Cinnamon?"

"Yes. Cinnamon."

"Uh… OK," Carlos manages. He glances at Cecil, and though he looks vaguely worried, it's hard to deny he also looks somewhat intrigued.

Cecil pats him on the arm. "Go do science," he says, with a little smile.

Carlos kisses him on the cheek and then hurries off after Tomas.

"…It worries me when they do that," Steve remarks. He and Cecil are alone now, and that means there's probably no getting out of talking to the man.

"I think it's sort of adorable," Cecil replies. "Except I prefer it when it's one of the other scientists and _not_ my poor Carlos' maniac double."

"Poor Tomas," Steve says. "He can't help being a raging extrovert who needs to live every moment to the full."

"True enough," Cecil concedes. "He _can_ , however, help being Strex Corp's chief scientist."

Before Steve can reply to this, there's a shout from the kitchen of, "…you did _what_ with the orange? That's _inspired_!" It's Tomas… which means Cecil finds himself suddenly worried about what Carlos can have said to elicit such a response.

He drops onto the nearest couch. This is like one of those weird, dysfunctional family Christmases he never had because… because of reasons. This does not, however, make him any happier about it.

"Drink?" Steve offers, civilly enough. "You look like you could use one."

Cecil looks up at him. "My double is hanging glowing lights filled with _blood_ on the outside of your house and my boyfriend and _his_ double have run off to the kitchen to talk about cinnamon and oranges. And I'm the designated driver. Sensible. Socially responsible. Forward-planning. _Sober_."

"…That is _not_ what cinnamon is for!" comes Tomas' voice from the kitchen.

"…I have a fold-out couch," Steve offers. He's either trying to be nice or up to something, and Cecil isn't sure which option is more worrying right now.

"…Fine. Then yes. I could indeed use a drink. Or a concussion."

"Cecil, it's Christmas!" Steve points out, with a slightly worrying look. "You can have both!"

"You have been around Kevin _way_ too long…" Cecil mutters, but thankfully Steve is now distracted and doesn't seem to hear.

"What's your poison these days?" the other man asks, after a moment of poking around in the back of his liquor cabinet. "It always used to be Armagnac…"

"…And it still is," Cecil replies, before Steve can get side-tracked into any kind of discussion about how he knows this. Or anything else Cecil doesn't want the man talking about.

Thankfully it seems a deal is a deal, and Steve doesn't say any more as he pours them both a glass, handing one over. "To Christmas?" he says.

"Christmas," Cecil echoes, and they both drink.

"You know, it was invented as a way to test the effectiveness of hyper-intense mass marketing," Steve remarks, swirling his glass thoughtfully.

"…What was?"

"Christmas."

"Uh… I think it may have been around longer than that…"

"No, see, I've been doing research and–"

Mercifully – before the man can elaborate any further – the front door bursts open and the force of nature that is Kevin comes bounding in. He looks like he's having the time of his life, which instantly makes Cecil worry about whether there are any summoned demons or holes in reality outside.

"Ah, are you on the drinks already?" Kevin says, with a little grin. "You sly dogs. Our scientists are happily concocting mulled wine in the kitchen and you're still getting a head start out here."

"…I can't imagine why…" Cecil mutters.

"Oh, you," Kevin exclaims, brightly, as Steve turns to pour him a glass as well. "You should come out and see the lights. They look great!"

"Are they still filled with blood?" Cecil asks.

"Of course!"

"…I'll pass."

"Oh, Cecil, Cecil, you really need to get into the spirit of the holiday more!" Kevin tells him, accepting the glass from Steve and dropping down onto the couch next to his thoroughly unimpressed double. "Don't tell me you're one of those weird people who don't _do_ Christmas?"

"I do Christmas," Cecil insists. "I just prefer it with less blood."

"But it's festive!" Kevin says. "You should see the decorations we have over in Desert Bluffs… _oh_ , they're to die for! Literally, in certain cases, because that's how Strex Corp makes them…"

"…Is there any way you could be less creepy for, like, five minutes?" Cecil implores. "Just to give me a _breather_?"

He's saved from Kevin's inevitably unhelpful answer as Tomas comes bounding in from the kitchen with Carlos in tow. They both look terribly pleased with themselves.

"This man is a genius!" Tomas exclaims, draping an arm around Carlos' shoulders, and it's hard for Cecil to tell which emotion is more prevalent in his boyfriend's eyes: reluctant pride or genuine alarm. "I thought my recipe was good, but oh _my_ , this one is going to blow your heads off."

"Not literally, though," Carlos adds, hastily. "Because that was _one_ time back in college and it wasn't my fault those guys in the lab mislabelled the flasks…"

"It'll need a little more time to mull, though," Tomas tells them. "So… oh, you're on the Armagnac already? Excellent news! Sling some our way!"

Steve finds another couple of glasses and pours a generous amount into each. Tomas goes over to pick his up, pausing just before he does. "Kiss the cook?" he tries, and Steve obliges with a rather wicked little grin. Kevin beams, and Cecil and Carlos immediately try to find something else to look at.

"…If you're this bad now, I _dread_ to think where this evening is going to end up…" Carlos mutters, heading over to take his glass from Steve. "And don't you even _think_ about trying to kiss _me_ ," he adds, which makes Steve go several interesting – and apparently telling – colours, before becoming _very_ interested in his own drink.

Carlos looks over at Cecil, who is currently stuck on the further couch with Kevin, and there's a moment in which he's clearly trying to work out if he can get away with sitting between them… before it becomes obvious – thanks to the look in Kevin's eyes – that it wouldn't end well. So he drops into one of the armchairs instead, which makes Kevin pout at him.

"So… now what?" the non-evil scientist wonders aloud.

The non-good scientist immediately looks like he's about to answer, but – before he can get a word out – Cecil holds up a hand. "You even _think_ about using the words 'strip' or 'twister' and there will be consequences."

"…Fun consequences?" Tomas asks.

"No. Unfun consequences."

"… _How_ unfun?"

"Tomas!"

"Sorry," the scientist says, though he doesn't look it.

"How long does wine take to mull anyway?" Cecil asks Carlos, before the man's double gets any worse. It's clear that _he's_ been spending too much time around Kevin as well.

"It shouldn't be too long," Carlos tells him. "You have to balance letting all the spices develop with making sure you don't overdo it."

"It sounds _terribly_ complicated," Kevin cuts in.

"It really isn't," Carlos insists. "You heat wine, you throw the right spices and citrus in, and you wait."

"He's underselling it," Tomas says. "It takes a _special_ kind of mastery."

"…And then you drink," Carlos goes on, evidently trying to stop Kevin from getting another word in. "I think mulled wine was invented to help people get through Christmas."

"So long as you're not using my _Chateau de la Nuit_ this time, I'm all for it," Kevin says.

"Oh, Kev, sweetie, I said I was sorry!" Tomas insists, hand on heart. "But don't worry, this time it's a couple of bottles of Californian Merlot. It was quite _good_ Californian Merlot, though… Carlos and I tried a bit whilst we were sorting the oranges."

"For science!" Carlos insists, looking a little guilty.

"…I just want you to know that I'm starting to feel like the only sane man again…" Cecil mutters.

Kevin pats him on the shoulder in what is clearly meant to be a supportive way but – as ever – just comes across as creepy. "I'm sure we can do something about that," he says.

"Yes!" Tomas agrees. "We should play a party game."

Cecil drops his head forward into his hands. Carlos… doesn't. "What sort of party game?" he asks, a little suspiciously.

Tomas is about to say something, but – before he can get a word out – Cecil lifts his head and holds up a hand. "Remember what I said about the words 'strip' and 'twister,'" he warns.

"No, no, this is different!" Tomas insists, clapping a hand to his heart. "I wasn't going to suggest that. I was going to suggest… I Have Never."

"Oh… I don't know that one," Carlos says. "How does it work?"

Tomas sits on the armrest next to his double, downing his drink with a grin and patting Carlos on the shoulder. "You'll love it," he says. "It's easy. We each take turns saying 'I have never' and then adding something you've never done… like played this game, for example. Then, everyone else who _has_ done that thing has to drink a shot."

"Oooh, sounds fun!" Kevin enthuses.

"It sounds dangerous…" Cecil says. And he knows it is… because he _has_ played it before.

"It _is_ dangerous," Steve adds, looking like the act of agreeing with Cecil is physically painful. "But hey… it's Christmas."

This being the closest thing to consensus that the five of them are ever going to reach, they pull their chairs into more of a circle and Steve swaps all their glasses for shot glasses. "What do you think," he asks, "…more Armagnac? Or would you rather do this with vodka?"

"Yes," Cecil says.

"To which?"

"To all of it."

"…Just so long as it's not tequila…" Carlos mutters, which makes Kevin look at him. "…Don't ask," Carlos insists. "Suffice it to say, last New Year's was… interesting."

"Ooh, you'll have to tell us about that later!" Kevin says, hopefully.

"I would if I could remember much of it…"

This just makes Kevin look impressed, and Carlos edges further away from him, closer to Cecil. He's not entirely sure how Carlos has now ended up sitting between the two of them but he's confident Kevin has done it on purpose.

"…Vodka, then," Steve decides, clearly realising that he's not going to get any kind of further agreement out of his houseguests. He brings the bottle over, pouring them each a shot and then settling between Tomas and Cecil.

Cecil still isn't sure why Steve keeps being sort-of nice to him… but it's rather unsettling.

"We should probably set a limit, just to be on the safe side…" Tomas says. "Maybe… once you've had five shots, you're out? Otherwise sooner or later somebody ends up under the table… and much as that is always fun, we haven't even had the mulled wine yet!"

"Seconded," Cecil agrees, because the alternatives don't bear thinking about.

"OK then, you go first," Kevin says to Tomas.

"OK," Tomas agrees, "let's start with an easy one: I have never… read that great Russian classic, _War and Peace_."

Carlos looks at him in surprise and downs his shot. He is the only one.

"…Really?" Tomas says, looking a little surprised too. "Well, well…"

"Me next," Steve insists. "I have never…" his eyes flick up and there's a surprisingly wicked look in them, "…personally summoned a demon."

"Oh, you," Kevin says, clapping a hand to his chest and downing his shot… and then jumping in obvious amazement because he's not the only one doing so.

Cecil downs his.

"…Seriously?" Carlos manages.

Cecil is confident Steve is doing this deliberately. "…Yes," he says. "But it was a _long_ time ago."

Kevin applauds in delight. "You are going to _have_ to tell me about that later!" he insists.

"Not a chance, Kevin," Cecil tells him.

" _Please_?"

"No."

"…Spoilsport," Kevin pouts. "We could bond over it."

"No!"

Kevin pouts some more.

" _My_ turn," Cecil says, thinking quickly. The problem with I Have Never is that it rapidly becomes a game of 'how do I get all these other people embarrassed and drunk faster than me?' And doubly-so when it's _these_ people. "OK. I have never… been abducted by a vague, yet menacing government agency."

Steve glowers and downs his shot. Unfortunately… so does Carlos.

"…Wait, _what_?" Cecil exclaims.

"I… ah… I hadn't been living here very long when it happened," Carlos says. "I didn't want to worry you by mentioning it. Besides, it only took an afternoon and they were surprisingly apologetic when I'd talked them down… And… oh, now I see why this game is dangerous…"

"Isn't it great?!" Kevin says. "Your go, now."

"Uh, OK then…" Carlos replies. He pauses a second, clearly thinking, and then says, "I have never… dated a girl."

Steve and Tomas both pick up their drinks and down them.

"…What, really?" Kevin exclaims, staring at his two boyfriends in surprise. " _Both_ of you?"

Steve shoots Cecil a glower as if this was all _his_ fault. Tomas just looks sheepish. "I had an experimental phase in college!" he insists.

"Clearly!" Kevin replies, unable to stop grinning. "Well. Well, well, well… Well! My go!"

"…Everyone run for the hills…" Cecil mutters, but this only makes Kevin grin at him more.

Kevin rubs his hands together. "Right. I have never… set a warehouse on fire."

"You _know_ about that?!" Carlos exclaims, downing his shot with a guilty look… but before Kevin can reply, _all_ of the other three down their shots too.

Kevin stares. " _All_ of you?!" he says, looking genuinely stunned.

" _Don't_ ask," Cecil insists, shooting Steve a glare that – mercifully – makes the man not say whatever it was he was clearly about to say.

Tomas, on the other hand, just grins. "Surely you're not surprised by me?" he asks. "You know science requires the occasional fire!"

"…It really does," Carlos evidently has to agree.

"You see?!" Tomas exclaims, brightly. "One hundred percent of the scientists in this room can't be wrong!"

"Especially not _these_ scientists," Kevin agrees, giving them both a terribly drawn look.

Cecil facepalms. "This isn't going to end well, is it?"

***

It doesn't. It takes quite a while to get through to the final stages of the game, during which Cecil ends up learning rather more about everyone than he was emotionally prepared for.

What's even more worrying is that, as Carlos downs his last shot and sits back in what might actually be relief, Cecil realises there's only two of them still in the game: himself, and Kevin.

And they only have one shot left each.

Kevin smiles. It's the smile that Cecil is never quite sure about. The one that makes his blood go a little cold.

"Just you and me, then," his wholly-evil double says, brightly.

"Well done for still being able to count," Cecil replies.

There is only one saving grace. One tiny, tiny saving grace. It's _his_ go. Which means, if he plays this right… he's going to win.

"And it's your go," Kevin reminds him, helpfully.

"Oh yes," Cecil says, and despite everything he's smiling… and he's sure it's rather more like the one Kevin favours than he'd care to admit. " _I know_."

"Oooh, a fight to the death!" Tomas exclaims, clapping his hands together.

"But not literally," Carlos insists.

"Maybe literally…" Steve mutters.

"Oh, not _Iiterally_ , literally," Kevin says. "No need for unpleasantries. It's Christmas! Now, Cecil… go ahead."

He lifts his glass. Cecil does the same… and smiles again.

Because he knows he's going to win.

"All right," he begins. "I have never… despite her regular threats, actually been dropped into a fire pit by GLaDOS."

Kevin narrows his eyes, though the grin offsets the look somehow. "You _monster_ ," he whispers, and downs his final shot.

"Victory!" Carlos exclaims, applauding, as Cecil downs his final shot anyway in triumph.

"…Oh, that was _so_ much fun!" Kevin says, rocking back in his chair and smirking. "What now?"

Tomas is about to reply, but – before he can get a word out – Carlos holds up a hand. "If you suggest mulled wine straight after all of _that_ , it _won't_ end well. There's food, right? Food to counteract all this alcohol you're plying us with?"

"There is," Steve answers. "Plenty of it. Tomas and I have been cooking all afternoon. We even have…" and here he lowers his voice, "… _bread_."

"But it contains wheat and wheat by-products!" Cecil exclaims, shocked. "It's forbidden!"

"Not in Desert Bluffs, it isn't," Tomas points out.

"We're not in Desert Bluffs!"

"Well, no," Steve concedes. "But it's _Christmas_ , Cecil. Live a little!"

"…Oh, you people are going to be the death of me…" Cecil mutters.

***

The food helps, even if some of it is very, very illegal. Thankfully, Tomas turns out to be as talented a cook as Carlos is, so – despite Steve having helped him – there's plenty to choose from and it's all very good.

Even… the bread. They have _sandwiches_. Cecil hasn't had a sandwich in a _year_ and… wow, it's so _very_ against the law, but also extremely delicious and… oh dear.

All this alcohol was not a good plan. Wasn't he supposed to be the sensible, responsible one? How did that go so wrong, so fast?

"Right," Carlos says, as Tomas helps Steve clear the last of the plates, "I think it's time for the mulled wine."

"Do you need a hand with that, lovely Carlos?" Kevin asks, in his most ingratiating tone.

"Uh… no, no, Kevin, I'm sure Cecil and I will be fine…" Carlos replies, quickly, giving Cecil a come-save-me look.

Catching on, Cecil leaps up and follows Carlos into the kitchen, which has the added bonus of saving him from whichever of Kevin's innocent-but-wicked facial expressions this comment will have elicited.

The moment they're alone – and out of sight – Carlos pushes Cecil into the nearest wall and kisses him. Under normal circumstances this would be extraordinarily welcome and very much fun, but Cecil can't fight the thought that there's more to it this time.

He doesn't get the chance to ask, however, because the moment Carlos breaks the kiss, the other man says, "…I think I may be a little drunk."

"I think you may be a _lot_ drunk," Cecil replies, grinning at him. Awkward social settings aside, Carlos is _terribly_ entertaining when he's like this.

"I think I may be a lot of things," Carlos goes on, walking fingertips up Cecil's arm. "You think they'd notice if we were delayed a bit? Like… quite a bit?"

"…Well, I'm very tempted by the offer… but we're in _Steve Carlsberg's_ kitchen," Cecil answers. "Plus, you know what would happen if my maniac double heard so much as–"

"…Are you two being adorable in there?" Kevin calls, from out in the living room.

Cecil facepalms. "You see? It's like he's got a sixth sense or something."

"…We could get _them_ to play Strip Twister as a distraction tactic and then sneak off..?" Carlos suggests.

"I wouldn't dare even mention it. The consequences don't bear thinking about."

"…True. Well, then. You should kiss me some more before we go back through. To make up…"

Cecil grins. "Now that, I can do…"

And he does. He wraps his arms around Carlos and kisses him very thoroughly, stroking a hand all the way down his spine, knowing how much the other man will like that. And he's right. In fact, they're both enjoying the clinch quite a lot when there are footsteps close by.

"…You _are_ being adorable!" Kevin exclaims, leaning on the doorframe and staring over at them.

Cecil and Carlos both look round at the same time, fixing surprisingly similar expressions on their interrupter. The point of this – if not the effect – is lost somewhat when Kevin gives a delighted little shiver.

"Wow, that's _hot_ ," he breathes.

"Kevin! Go back to the living room!" Carlos says, in the voice he tends to use when trying to wrangle awkward scientists.

Kevin presses a hand over his heart, grins at them, and complies.

When he's gone, Carlos buries his head in Cecil's chest. "I want you to know, even the scientists were easier than this. And you've seen what they're like."

"I have," Cecil replies. "They're not _evil_ , though."

"Some of them are close," Carlos points out, looking up. "Frederick built a death ray last summer!"

"Well, yes, but that doesn't make you _evil_ ," Cecil reasons. "Just… industrious."

Carlos buries his head back in Cecil's chest. "I think we should get that mulled wine now."

Cecil pats him supportively on the shoulder. "I think maybe you're right."

***

So they do. Kevin gives them both a _wholly inappropriate_ grin when they come through with the glasses, but thankfully doesn't say anything else.

"Well… Merry Christmas, everyone," Steve says, as they all chink glasses together.

There's various echoes of his sentiment, and then they all try the wine.

"Wow," Tomas exclaims. "That is _seriously_ good. You were _so_ right about the oranges."

Carlos grins a little. "Glad you approve. It's so _important_ for a scientist to have that kind of support from _other_ scientists."

Oh dear. He's still drunk, then. And the wine is only going to make things worse, or better, or…

Cecil decides he ought to have some more. Sometimes there's no going back.

"I know, right?" Tomas agrees. "I think sometimes the non-scientists don't get that. No offence to present company, of course."

Carlos laughs. "You sound like GLaDOS. Oh… oh, I have just had the _best_ idea! We should call her! I don't know if super-sentient AIs celebrate Christmas but we could still wish her well for the festive season, and so on…"

"We should!" Tomas exclaims.

"…She'll threaten our lives," Cecil points out.

"…And call us idiots," Steve adds.

"…And mix us up," Kevin chips in.

They all pause a second.

"…We should totally still do it, though," Carlos says, and everyone nods.

"…I think we all just agreed on something again…" Steve mutters.

It seems to be becoming a habit. Cecil thinks he might be more worried about it, but the mulled wine is _very_ nice and it's been _ages_ since GLaDOS threatened his continued existence. And Christmas is a time for reconnecting with the important people in your life…

He pulls out his phone, finds GLaDOS' number – which of course isn't a number at all – hits the speed dial and puts it on speaker.

"…Hello?" comes the familiar voice of Aperture's infinitely merciless AI. "Cecil? Why are you calling me? I'm terribly busy and important."

"I'm here with Carlos and… you know, the other lot…" Cecil says. "We have a message for you."

"Oh _brother_ ," GLaDOS exclaims. "If this has _anything_ to do with Strex Corp, Star Seeds, holes in reality or paradoxes, _I do not want to hear about it_. You people are _menaces to science_."

"No, no, trust me, it's nothing like that," Cecil replies, hastily. "I promise."

"You haven't broken science?" GLaDOS asks, very suspiciously. "I find that hard to believe."

"We haven't broken science," Cecil insists. "Scout's honour."

"…You're not a scout."

"No, I am. Well, not a practicing one, but I used to be."

"…Fine, then. If you haven't broken science, why are you calling? Other than the fact you and your little friends are clearly nocturnal."

"We're not nocturnal!" Carlos insists.

"I only ever see you at night," GLaDOS replies. "Apart from that one weird time with the radio interview, which I am omitting from the data curves as an anomaly. Based upon the remaining evidence, you are nocturnal. Either that, or you don't sleep at all… which would actually explain a fair amount about your mental states. So you're all together, then? It finally happened?"

"…What finally happened?" Cecil says, trying to sound as oblivious as possible and studiously avoiding meeting anyone else's eyes all of a sudden. "Nothing finally happened. It's a Christmas party. Steve Carlsberg's Christmas party. On Christmas Eve. Which is _totally_ normal!"

GLaDOS does not sound impressed. "Cecil, forgive me for pointing out the obvious fact you seem to have missed, but it is not normal at all. The five of you try to kill each other on a regular basis."

"Oh, we're not that bad!" Kevin insists. "We very rarely get so far as _actually_ trying to kill each other. Usually it only goes as far as one-upmanship and a little corporate rivalry. Besides, it's Christmas!"

"Uh… you _did_ actually kill me one time," Cecil can't help pointing out.

Kevin pouts at him. "That was my alternate future self! You can't blame me for what he did! Besides, I'm sure he didn't _mean_ to!"

"…Much as I would just _love_ to listen to you all bickering for hours," GLaDOS interrupts, dryly, "I don't actually _have_ hours. Being a nigh-on immortal super-sentient AI doesn't excuse me spending all my time _vacillating_. So. Please follow the example of my latest range of spike pits and get to the point."

"…Was that a joke?" Carlos asks.

"Of course not," GLaDOS insists.

"…Right," Tomas manages. "Well. We're calling for a reason."

"A special reason," Steve adds. "Even though we really shouldn't be calling at all because it will attract more tracking drones to our location."

"And what reason would that be?" GLaDOS says, in the flat, resigned tones of a super-sentient AI who can't drop anyone in a fire pit right now but also can't just hang up on account of lingering curiosity.

"We wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas!" Carlos says.

"…Oh brother," GLaDOS murmurs, again. "Have you been drinking?"

"Quite a lot, actually!" Kevin exclaims. "We had drinks, and then we played I Have Never, with shots, and _then_ we had Carlos and Tomas' mulled wine, and at some point I'm hoping there might be White Russians because I _like_ those, and…"

"…Oh, is that them?" comes another voice on the other end of the phone, interrupting Kevin and speaking before GLaDOS can get another word of her own in. It's Chell.

"Yes," GLaDOS sighs. "All of them. _Apparently_ the adopted weirdo in the tinfoil hat is throwing a Christmas party that seems to consist largely of reasons to consume an excessive quantity of alcohol."

"Steve!" Steve interrupts. "My name is _Steve_!"

"Yes, yes, I know who you are," GLaDOS insists. " _Anyway_ , they called to wish me – uh, us – a Merry Christmas."

"D'awww," Chell says. "Isn't that thoughtful? Hey, guys. Try not to create any paradoxes tonight. Much as I normally love it when you do that, it's Christmas Eve and I'm trying to get GLaDOS in a festive mood."

"You do not want to see this place," GLaDOS groans in sudden resignation. "She's got _tinsel_ everywhere, and this little plastic tree that _sings_. To be brutally honest, I was contemplating flooding the entire Enrichment Centre with deadly neurotoxin when you called."

"Oh, you don't mean that," Chell insists. "You like it really."

"I do not 'like it really,'" GLaDOS replies. "You should just be thankful you're hard to kill."

"I love you too, Gee," Chell says, in the kind of overly-saccharine voice that she only ever uses when she's trying to wind GLaDOS up.

"I have told you before about calling me that!" GLaDOS exclaims. "Especially in front of people!"

"…You know we're still here, right?" Cecil asks, carefully.

"Yes!" GLaDOS snaps. "I'm a super-sentient AI! I don't forget things! Now, we're all feeling joyous and festive, so the five of you should go back to being ridiculously creepy together and stop bothering those of us with _awkward test subjects_ to deal with!"

"…She loves you really," Chell whispers.

"Well, Merry Christmas," Cecil manages.

"Yes," GLaDOS says. "Yes, that."

And she hangs up.

"Well, that was… delightful," Kevin says. "I do worry about those two sometimes. Their relationship is very…"

"…hard to work out?" Tomas suggests.

"Yes," Kevin agrees.

"…Sometimes I think they must be saying the same thing about all of us…" Carlos mutters, then seems to realise what he's said – partly thanks to the look of shock Cecil gives him in response – and waves hastily in the direction of the kitchen. "More mulled wine?" he asks, voice about an octave higher than usual.

'That would be a very bad idea,' Cecil tries to say, but what comes out is, instead, "Yes."

***

So they do. They do, and it's still very good, even if it's also a very bad idea. The two things seem to be merging more and more with quite alarming speed, which is probably why the five of them have gone from sitting semi-sensibly on armchairs and couches to nigh-on sprawling in a circle on the floor in the centre of the room.

"We should play another game," Steve suggests, finishing the last of his (current) glass of mulled wine.

"Yes!" Tomas agrees. "How about –?"

"We are _not_ playing Strip Twister!" Cecil interrupts.

Tomas pouts. "Oh, fine," he says. "Well. How about Spin The Bottle?"

Cecil facepalms. "…Do we look like eighteen-year-old college kids?"

"Oh, come on, Cecil, live a little!" Steve pushes, with a slightly wicked look.

There seems to be no getting out of it, so Cecil reluctantly agrees… though he _did_ win I Have Never, so maybe he can find a way to win this one too, even if there isn't technically supposed to _be_ a winner in Spin The Bottle. Tomas fetches one of the now-empty bottles of Californian Merlot and brings it back to where they're already sitting in a helpful circle on the floor.

"If it lands on you, you have to pick truth or dare," he says. "But, to make it more interesting… we should try the _extreme_ version."

"…There's an _extreme_ version of _Spin The Bottle_?" Carlos asks, looking a little surprised.

"Oh yeah," Tomas answers, grinning. "You spin, and whoever it lands on has to pick truth or dare… _but_ then you spin again, and whoever it lands on the second time is the one who decides on the truth or dare that the first person has to do. So you have to pick what you're getting without knowing who's going to be deciding on it."

"…Oh, that's _diabolical_ ," Cecil exclaims. "That's so diabolical, GLaDOS herself would approve."

"Wouldn't she just?" says Tomas, grinning all the more. "So what do you think, Cecil? Do you… _dare_?"

People really should not goad Cecil when he's been indulging in more than a little festive alcohol. Especially when said people look exactly like his beautiful scientist boyfriend.

"Yes," he says. "Yes. I dare."

***

Things rapidly go from bad to worse. Before long, Tomas has had to tell – in alarming detail – the story of the two _girls_ he dated in college, Carlos has admitted to trying to build a molecular disintegration ray, Kevin has texted one of his friends in Strex middle-management simply with the line: _'I'm not thinking about meadows,'_ and Steve has – worryingly easily – posted a message on a backroom internet forum that reads, _'Dear Illuminati, you suck and we're coming to get you. Merry Christmas from the Freemasons.'_

And a lot more besides. This is _way_ more dangerous than I Have Never. _Way_ more.

For the third time, the bottle lands on Cecil. He pauses, weighing up the risks, and then decides that having to relate the story of how he almost got arrested in Luftnarp was bad enough and maybe a dare might actually be safer.

"…Dare," he says, hoping he's not going to regret this.

They spin again. Watching a spinning bottle is a little hypnotic at the best of times, but after this much alcohol… it's even more so.

And then… it lands on Kevin. "…Oh no," Cecil breathes.

Kevin's face lights up. "Oh, Christmas has come early!" he exclaims. "This is just… perfect."

"…Be gentle?" Cecil can't help saying, even though he knows it's probably going to make things worse.

"Oh, Cecil, Cecil, it's like you don't trust me!"

"…I _don't_!" he points out.

"Well, then I'll make this nice and easy," Kevin says, which means it will be neither. "Cecil, I dare you…"

A pause. A pause for effect, the length of a breath and an eternity. The man truly is evil.

"…to kiss me."

All Cecil can do is stare. Tomas claps his hands together and Steve collapses into slightly nervous giggles.

"…You're serious," Cecil manages.

"I am _totally_ serious," Kevin tells him, and – for once – he looks it.

Cecil looks hurriedly over at Carlos, hoping – assuming – that the man will object and thereby save him from what is clearly a fate worse than death. Of course he will. His Carlos always saves him from fates worse than death.

…Except, alcohol and Carlos is apparently a very bad combination. Very, very bad. Borderline _wicked_. The _allegedly_ not-evil scientist grins at him. "Go right ahead. You can't back down on a dare. You get seven years' bad luck. It's worse than breaking a mirror."

"You made that up!" Cecil insists.

"Nope," Carlos tells him, with a faux-sage nod. "Scientifically proven. Bad luck. Very bad. Besides, I had to kiss him in front of _GLaDOS_ in order to save the world, so it's clearly your turn."

"Oh, go on, Cecil," Kevin says, with what he clearly thinks is his most ingratiating look. "Just once? It's Christmas!"

It's clear to Cecil that he can't refuse. He can't. So the only option… is to do it with effortless grace and dignity. And it's a testament to his concentration – or so he hopes – that, despite the alcohol, he slips easily into the centre of the circle, in front of Kevin, puts a hand on the back of his double's head… and pulls him in to kiss.

All of the other three applaud at once, but Cecil hardly notices. All he's really aware of is the way Kevin just seems to melt against him at the contact, pressing into it without a flicker of hesitation, and he feels… he… feels… sort of…

_Don't think about it, don't think about it, graceful graceful graceful and aloof…_

He pulls back. Kevin stares at him, evidently lost for words, as Cecil returns to his place in the circle.

Kevin keeps staring. There's suddenly a lot of that going on. A lot. And not just from him. Or at him.

"…There should be more drinks now, right?" Steve manages, as if finally realising what he's done in bringing them all here.

"Yes," Cecil says, suddenly conscious that they're all hanging on his every word. "There should."

***

When Cecil wakes up, he's vaguely aware that it's light and that his head hurts. The light means it's morning and the headache means all those hazy memories of alcohol are real, and he _did_ actually drink…

…OK, wow, a lot. A _lot_.

Very, very cautiously, he blinks his eyes open, starting to process where he is. He's lying in bed… somewhere… half-draped over someone warm and lovely. Cecil smiles to himself and contemplates possible, interesting ways to wake Carlos up, and…

…OK. Hold on. Wait. As the world swims a little more into view, Cecil realises that the very much naked person he's lying on top of is a lot paler-skinned than his beautiful scientist boyfriend. Which means it isn't Carlos. Which means… which… means… which…

It's at this point that he processes the fact that there's an arm around his waist, which physics and normal human biology both clearly dictate cannot belong to whoever he's lying on top of. Which means… there's at least _two_ other people here.

Cecil takes a deep breath, trying to get the memories of last night to come back to the fore… and then a single one flashes into his mind, just for a second, just…

Just…

Cecil sits bolt upright in shock, as the full enormity of the situation finally and mercilessly falls into place with all the force of a meteor impact. He's in Steve Carlsberg's living room, lying on a helpfully large fold-out couch bed, and he's been draped right on top of Kevin: Kevin, who is currently flat on his back and calmly asleep, with one of the beautiful scientists – it really is hard to tell them apart without their eyes, their voices or their clothes to help differentiate – curled up alongside him, and the other beautiful scientist half-curled on his other side with Steve snuggled in between them, arm thrown over Cecil.

All five of them. All. Five. And not a single item of clothing on a single one of them, himself included.

Cecil stares, completely incapable of forming words and still trying to work out at what point they went from ridiculous party games to… to… to whatever this is!

Everyone else is still asleep, so Cecil decides to risk waking up one of the scientists in the hope that it will be Carlos. Reasoning that Carlos will be the one closer to him – as if _reason_ could ever have a place in this insanity of insanities! – he gives the sleeping scientist a gentle nudge, then pulls back in case this somehow unmakes the universe (which seems just about as likely as anything else right now).

The scientist blinks his eyes open, obviously running through the same initial thought processes that Cecil did, until he gets as far as realising there are rather more people here than there should be. And then he too sits bolt upright in wide-eyed shock, just about managing to take in the scene of insanity he finds himself in the midst of, and then staring at Cecil as if he might have some kind of workable explanation.

"…Cecil?" Carlos breathes. "I… you… did we..?"

All Cecil can do is nod. The words still won't actualise in his head.

"I… uh…" Carlos tries, but he's obviously having a similar problem. He pauses, waves a hand at the room, and then says, "…we did, didn't we?"

Cecil just nods again.

"…We… all of us… we…"

Still, Cecil can't get a word out. He just nods one last time, mind utterly frozen up.

"…Oh, my head hurts worse than the time that government agency stole a piece of my brain…" comes Steve's voice.

Cecil and Carlos both look over as Steve pulls himself into a sitting position, blinking in wide-eyed shock at what he's seeing, his expression all too familiar.

"…I… we… wait, _what_?!" Steve just about manages. "We're all… did we..? I mean… we did, didn't we?"

Before either Cecil or Carlos can try to answer this – though it's questionable if either of them would actually be able to form words – Tomas sits bolt upright all at once. He blinks around at the scene of insanity and then his face splits into an utterly radiant grin. "…Merciful Edison!" he exclaims. "We… we totally did, didn't we?"

"…Yeah," Carlos manages. "I think we did."

"…Oh, we did…" Kevin murmurs, still lying on his back and not sitting up, leaving Cecil to wonder how long the man has actually been conscious for. "I only wish I could remember more of it because I think it was _amazing_ …"

"Charmer," Tomas says, batting at him.

"Maniac!" Cecil exclaims, finally regaining the power of speech.

"Oh, you," Kevin says, still not bothering to sit up, but looking ridiculously happy. "Everyone's alive, intact, and no more cursed than they were before they got here."

"So?!" Cecil replies, aware his voice has gone high-pitched but too strung-out to do anything about it. "This… this is a disaster! A complete disaster, and you're not allowed to look so pleased about it!"

Kevin gives a little shrug. "I shall if I like. It is Christmas! And not just Christmas… the best day ever!"

"The best day ever?" Cecil repeats, staring. "There is literally _nothing_ in the world that could make this day more _crushingly embarrassing_ than it is already!"

"Uh… about that…" comes a _sixth_ voice. A _familiar_ sixth voice.

They all turn to look in the speaker's direction; Kevin sitting up with the barest flicker of concern in his eyes now, and even the ever-unflappable Tomas seems a little worried.

"…Oh no…" Cecil breathes. "No, no, no. No."

"…Yes," says the speaker. It's none other than Kevin's long-suffering demon, Azatothoth the Bloodthirsty, sitting in the corner of the room with the remnants of a bottle of something next to him, and – from the looks of things – he's been slowly eating his way through the leftover party food. And Cecil would take a moment to wonder just what appeal an eight-foot demon from an untold infernal dimension could possibly see in sausages on sticks, were it not for the fact that _there's an eight-foot demon from an untold infernal dimension_ sitting in the room and watching them.

"Azzie?" Kevin says, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"You summoned me," Azatothoth replies, flatly.

"I did?" Kevin asks.

"You did," Azatothoth tells him. "Well, it was your soul-bind that pulled me here and one of your weekly summonings that was expended, but _technically-speaking_ it wasn't you who summoned me. It was the guy who looks exactly like you."

"… _Me_?!" Cecil exclaims in all-new horror. " _I_ summoned you?"

"I think it was sort of a joint effort," Azatothoth says. For an eight-foot demon of unimaginable power and rage, he sounds alarmingly amused. "You were doing the chanting but Kevin was standing behind you and whispering the right words in your ear."

Cecil almost loses the power of speech again. "…He… was?" 

"Yes. And holding your arms up."

All Cecil can do now is drop his head into his hands. Someone pats him on the shoulder, but he's not even sure who it is and doesn't dare lift his head to look.

"You… ah…" Carlos starts out, then blushes furiously and can't meet anyone's eyes, Azatothoth in particular. "Because we… the five of us seem to… ah…" A pause. A deep, deep breath. "You weren't… you know… _involved_ , were you?"

"Oh, by the Dread Father, no," Azatothoth exclaims. "Please. I'm a demon and you're a collection of tiny, fragile mortals."

"What, so we're not good enough?!" Kevin interjects.

"Kevin!" Carlos hisses. "Priorities!"

"…I… right, right," Kevin concedes. He pauses a moment, clearly having difficulty with all this, before finally asking. "…Why are you still here?" As he does, Cecil looks up at last, solely because he's worried about what the answer to this is going to be.

Azatothoth gives a shrug. "Kevin, this may be the best day of _my_ life, and I'm almost four thousand years old. Do you have _any_ idea how useful this is going to be come Performance Appraisal Season?"

Kevin pouts at him. He is the only person in the world who Cecil can imagine pouting at a demon and getting away with it. "But I always give you a good write-up!" he says.

"Yep," Azatothoth agrees. "So think how good it's going to be this year."

"Are you _blackmailing_ me?" Kevin asks, eyes a little narrowed.

"Yep," Azatothoth says, again, and then gestures at himself. "Demon of unimaginable power? Soul-bound to over two hundred entities across four planes of existence? Render of gods and de-throner of kings?"

"I remember," Kevin replies, a sullen hint to his tone. "Well. If you're here, you may as well make yourself useful and go out to get us coffee."

"It's Christmas Day, Kevin," Azatothoth points out. "A day of parties, rejoicing, and a lot of closed shops. I'm a demon, not a magician. And speaking of being a demon, I really should be going. Even though you lot are probably the most entertaining thing I have seen in four millennia, I have so much to get done. It's Christmas Day, after all. Very busy time for demon summonings."

"…You are going to Hell," Cecil mutters at him.

Azatothoth just grins. "I should be so lucky!" he exclaims. "Well, I'm sure I'll see you delightful gentlemen again before too long. Try not to have any more drunken orgies without saving a summoning just for me…"

And, in a rush of infernal light – and before Kevin can get another word in – Azatothoth vanishes.

Silence descends. It's a very, very heavy silence.

"…OK, _now_ there is nothing in the world that could make this day any more crushingly embarrassing than it already is!" Cecil says.

Tempting fate once was a mistake. Doing it twice is just asking for trouble.

There's a knock at the door.

"Oh no," Steve mutters. "Who could that be?"

"Maybe we should ignore it," Carlos whispers.

The knocking comes again. "We know you're in there!" calls another familiar voice.

"…Oh no," Steve says a second time, as he – like all of them – recognises the speaker. It's Chell.

"We should _really_ ignore it," Cecil murmurs.

Yet more knocking. "Do you want me to portal in through the window? Because I can totally do that with the gun you modified for me!"

"No portals in my house!" Steve exclaims, scrambling to his feet. "Fine, fine! I'm coming!"

There are various sheets and blankets around – despite the fact that none of the five of them is actually covered in one – so Steve snatches up the nearest spare sheet, wraps it around himself, and staggers over to the door.

He opens it the bare minimum – no pun intended – and peers out.

"Hi there!" comes Chell's voice. "Merry Christmas! We thought we'd pop over and see you in person."

"Yeah," comes a second voice. It's Chell's delightful Black Mesa double, Mish. "But… we're interrupting something, aren't we?"

"No," Steve insists, in the guiltiest voice imaginable.

"Oh, we totally are," Mish says. "Who's still here? Did you throw Cecil and Carlos out so you could have a wild night with their doubles, or..? Oh. _Oh_. Can we come in? You should so let us in."

"Don't let them in!" Cecil calls, before he can stop himself.

"Cecil?!" Chell exclaims, sounding on the point of hysterical laughter, no doubt as she and Mish work out what's really going on. "Are you in there?"

"…No!" Cecil insists, uselessly.

"Oh, you _are_!" Mish squeaks in delight. "Let us in, let us in, please please please!"

"No!" Cecil says again.

But it's too late. There's the sound of a couple of footsteps, and then a familiar electric whine cuts the air – once outside, and once in the room – and before anyone can say anything there's a glowing blue portal on the ceiling, through which Chell and Mish drop one by one, landing in matching crouches a little way off.

This leads to a sudden and surprisingly harsh fight over the remaining sheets. Thankfully – as much as it is possible for anything to be thankful in this situation, which in all honesty is not very – Chell and Mish miss most of it because the moment they appear they both just about manage to stand up before they collapse into hysterics.

Steve spins in surprise and tries to glower at them, the effect of which is somewhat lessened by the fact that his bedful of doubles are fighting over sheets and the targets of his glower are clinging onto each other and struggling for air amidst the laughter.

"It happened!" Chell exclaims, finally, slapping herself on the chest in an attempt to make her lungs work again. "Oh, it happened at last!"

Mish punches her lightly on the shoulder. "This means you owe me ten bucks."

"…You had a _bet_ on this?!" Carlos manages.

"Heck yes, we had a bet on this," Mish tells them. "I said it would be before New Year's and Chell thought you'd drag it out until next spring. 'Cause of the denial thing."

"' _Denial thing_ '?!" Cecil repeats. "What denial thing?"

"Uh… _this_ denial thing," Chell replies, waving at the lot of them. "Have we not been telling you guys to get a room for months?"

"Well, yeah, but… but that's just a thing you say!" Cecil tries to reason. The trouble is, these situations start to make a lot more sense when someone external points them out to you, and he's suddenly aware this is not a battle he's going to win.

"Oh, Dee is going to just _die_!" Mish exclaims. "I have to call her, I _so_ have to call her, hold on…"

And before anyone can stop her, Mish has pulled out her phone and dialled DORiS.

"Hello?" comes the voice of DORiS, Black Mesa's sentient AI and thereby GLaDOS' infinitely more evil (and more cheery) double. "Mish? Just how long are you and Chell planning to be?"

"Oh, it was worth it, trust me," Mish replies. "We're at Steve Carlsberg's place, and they're here."

"Who's there?" DORiS asks, though there's already a note of hope in her voice.

"All of us are here!" Kevin exclaims, and – weird though it is – even he sounds a little highly-strung now. "All of us, DORiS, and I think it was _awesome_ , so _there_."

There's about five seconds' pause and then DORiS bursts into laughter. "It happened!" she exclaims in utter delight. "It finally happened!"

"I know, right?!" Mish replies.

"Oh, now I owe GLaDOS ten bucks," DORiS remarks. "Darn it. Also I have to work out how sentient AIs are supposed to get money…"

" _You_ were betting on us too?" Tomas exclaims. "Do super-sentient AIs do that?"

"We do now!" DORiS tells him. "I guess I shouldn't have underestimated you. I thought it'd be at least next Valentine's Day before you finally worked it out."

"I worked it out _ages_ ago," Kevin pouts. "I should totally get points for that."

"Yes, but you're always hitting on _everyone_ ," Cecil tries to reason.

Kevin gives him a flat – if still drawn – look. "Yes," he says. "And now you know why."

Cecil facepalms. Someone pats him on the shoulder and he's pretty sure it's Carlos, but there's still a risk it's Kevin and that's… that's _weird_ , OK?

"Oh, oh, you totally made my Christmas," Chell says, just about having regained her composure. "I knew something had to be going on after that phone call last night."

"Phone call?" DORiS asks.

"Yeah, they rang GLaDOS and me yesterday evening," Chell explains. "It was very… telling."

"Telling?" Carlos repeats. "We were just being friendly and wishing the super-sentient AI who regularly tries to kill us – and her inexplicable human girlfriend who she _also_ regularly tries to kill – a Merry Christmas! What's weird about that?!"

"Nothing whatsoever," Chell replies, though she's obviously struggling not to collapse into laughter again. "The five of you just sounded so… _happy_ , is all."

Carlos stares. He looks a little hysterical himself. "And that's _bad_?!"

"Carlos, beautiful Carlos, of course it's not bad," Mish tells him. "But it was _so_ worth the trip over."

"…Can we please go ten seconds without someone hitting on me?!" Carlos exclaims.

Cecil pats him on the shoulder, though he's aware that this probably isn't as helpful as it could be at this particular moment.

"So… what now?" Chell wonders aloud.

There's a hint of a sensible question in here, but the effect is somewhat lost as Steve finally regains the power of speech. " _Would you get that portal off my ceiling before the government detects it?!_ " he exclaims, in an unusually high-pitched tone.

Chell glances up. "Hm? Oh, sorry, hold on…"

She flicks a switch on her portal gun and the blue light fades all at once as reality re-asserts.

" _Thank_ you," Steve says, more than a little sullenly.

"Welcome!" Chell replies, in an over-bright tone she's obviously picked up from Mish.

" _Well_ ," DORiS now says, "much as I really could listen to this all morning, I have to get on. Lots of deathtraps to arrange, you know how it is. Mish, honey, don't be too much longer. This turkey is not going to cook itself."

Cecil and Carlos exchange a rather confused look at this, but everything is now so insane that they just shrug and opt not to question it.

"Ah, true enough," Mish agrees. "See you soon, Dee."

"See you soon. And Merry Christmas to the Denial Club."

"Don't call us that!" Cecil exclaims, but DORiS just gives a little laugh and signs off.

"Well!" Mish echoes, brightly. "You heard the super-sentient AI. We really must be getting on."

Chell nods. "I have to call GLaDOS on the way back, though. She's going to just _die_ when I tell her! Not literally, though, 'cause I'm not allowed to do that anymore…"

"Yes, well, thanks for stopping by and making this morning even more cringeworthy," Steve says, trying to shoo them out the door. "Now run along before I set the anti-Illuminati drone on you."

Chell and Mish just exchange a look, seeming entirely unconvinced, and then each give the room a wave before they head out.

When they're gone, Steve shuts the door and leans on it, as if genuinely concerned someone else might try to get in.

There's a long silence.

"Well, that was fun," Tomas remarks, brightly. He still seems far too unfazed by everything.

Cecil tries to think of a way to reply to this that won't make matters worse. Unfortunately, he's still in shock about a number of different elements of the whole situation, so what comes out is, "…Just how did I manage to summon a _demon_?!"

Kevin pats him on the shoulder and lies back down, completely at ease again. "You asked," he says, "so I let you."

"…I _asked_?!"

"Yep. Said it had been _ages_ and you fancied trying it again, for old time's sake."

"Also I think you were trying to impress Steve," Tomas adds.

Cecil goes furiously pink and buries his head in Carlos' chest – relieved that the man still wraps him in tight despite the insinuation – and therefore misses the matching colour that Steve turns at the words.

"But…" Cecil manages, lifting his head after a moment that could never be long enough – even in Night Vale – and looking down at Kevin, "…I've heard you summon Azatothoth before and I have no idea what language you do it in. It's not one I can even recognise, never mind speak."

"Hm? Oh, that's Linear-B," Kevin replies, with an easy little shrug. "I've known that one since I was a kid. But you can summon Azzie in pretty much any language. He just gets cranky if you do it in something normal and modern like English or Spanish. I tried it in Russian once and he was _very_ uncomplimentary, which was _hurtful_ because I spent ages working on my pronunciation. But if my hazy memories of last night are real… which you can never be sure of, I know… I think you did it in Unmodified Sumerian."

"He did," Steve mutters, and only now does Cecil realise the other man has his head in his hands. "He did. It was Unmodified Sumerian. And your pronunciation was pitch-perfect, Cecil."

"…Did you just say something nice to me?" Cecil asks him, suspiciously.

"No!" Steve insists, looking up. "No, I did not. You summoned a demon to impress me! You summoned _my_ boyfriend's demon – OK, _one_ of my boyfriends' demon – to impress me!"

"Let us not forget how _this whole mess_ started, _Steve Carlsberg_!" Cecil sort-of growls at him.

Kevin gives a happy little shiver. "You know you're really hot when you do that?"

"Kevin!" Cecil exclaims.

"Still not sorry…" Kevin mutters.

"…Just how _did_ this whole mess get started?" Tomas now asks. "I know Kevin wanted the party, and I know Steve said he could make it happen, but honestly? I didn't think there was any force on Earth that could bring the two of you here without the vigorous application of weaponry or mind-altering chemicals. And then you just stroll in, plain as day."

"They didn't tell you?" Carlos responds, looking at his double in surprise. "To be fair, Cecil only told me last week, after Steve called."

"Tell me what?" Tomas asks.

"Don't you dare!" Cecil exclaims, looking wildly at Steve. "It's bad enough you told Kevin and made me tell Carlos. The less people who know, the better."

"…Azatothoth knows too," Kevin can't help adding, which makes Cecil drop back on the bed in resignation, putting a hand over his eyes.

"You told your _demon_?!"

"Uh, no. _You_ told my demon."

The power of speech deserts Cecil for a moment. Carlos pats him on the shoulder.

"You told his demon what?!" Tomas pushes. "Oh go on, you all know, you have to tell me too."

"We used to date!" Steve exclaims, very quickly, as if trying to get the words out before he loses the ability to speak. Or the will to live. "Cecil and I. We used to date."

"…Merciful Edison, that is _priceless_!" Tomas replies in delight. "You _dated_?! And then you hooked up with his _double_ and his _new_ boyfriend's double? Steve, you do realise you're an insane joy beyond all telling?"

"…Shut up," Steve mutters, going furiously pink and dropping back down onto the bed.

"…OK, _now_ there is literally _nothing_ left in the world that could _possibly_ make this day any more _crushingly embarrassing_ than it already is!" Cecil exclaims in exasperation.

Tempting fate a third time was just _silly_.

From somewhere on the floor, his phone starts to ring.

"…Please kill me…" he mutters.

Carlos is closer to the edge of the bed, so he pats Cecil on the arm and turns, searching through the nearby pile of clothes until he finds the phone in question.

"…Oh no," he says.

"…What?" Cecil asks, carefully, sure that he doesn't want to know.

"…You don't want to know," Carlos confirms.

"I know I don't want to know," Cecil replies. "But tell me anyway."

Carlos turns the phone screen so they can all see. "It's GLaDOS."

Cecil facepalms at exactly the same time as Steve, which makes them both raise their heads after a moment and glower at each other.

"…Oh, just answer it and put her on speaker," Cecil mutters. "Let's get this over with."

Carlos does as he's asked. There's a second's pause, and then all they can hear is GLaDOS laughing. And laughing.

"…GLaDOS," Cecil tries.

The laughter doesn't stop.

"GLaDOS," Carlos now tries.

Still not even a dent. Apparently not needing to breathe means she doesn't have to pause.

"GLaDOS!" they try together.

"…This is now officially the _best Christmas ever_!" she exclaims.

And hangs up before they can protest.

"…That could have been worse…" Carlos mutters.

"Not much!" Cecil and Steve say, in unison, and then promptly glower at each other again because it's _weird_ when that happens.

Carlos puts the phone down and curls up into a ball. "Oh, we are _never_ going to be able to show our faces in Aperture again…"

"…Unless GLaDOS finds another of those miniature stars…" Tomas mutters.

"No more miniature stars!" Carlos exclaims, looking somewhat hysterical. "Not even a little one! I expressly forbid it!"

"Awww, but they're such fun!" Kevin protests.

"Kevin!" Carlos replies. "No!"

Another of those awkward silences descends. Cecil doesn't dare say anything this time in case it makes things even worse.

"…GLaDOS does have point, though," Tomas risks, after a long moment. "This _is_ sort of the best Christmas ever. Certainly better than last Christmas…"

"Why, what did you do last Christmas?" Steve asks, as if in hope of getting them onto a more normal topic of conversation. As if they could _ever_ get onto a more normal topic of conversation whilst all five of them are curled up on a fold-out bed in his living room.

And they _are_ curled up. There's been various moving about since they woke up but the long and the short of it is that they're all still in bed.

Cecil is trying not to overthink this too much.

Tomas gives a little shrug. "You don't want to know. You really don't. Needless to say, it involved a wallaby."

Steve stares. "A _wallaby_?"

"Yes. And a reindeer."

"…How… festive?" Steve manages.

"Less than you would think, actually," Tomas answers, with a shudder. "So this is a definite improvement. A _definite_ improvement."

…It is, sort of.

Cecil lies back down. Sometimes you have to accept facts, even if you don't admit them out loud for a very, very long time and then studiously refuse to admit them for even longer despite waking up hungover in bed with four other men.

…Oh dear.

Carlos lies back down beside him, curling into his side and stroking his arm, and Cecil is now trying to work out if his beautiful, _actual_ boyfriend is either still drunk or, in fact, a little more like his wildly extroverted double than he usually lets on.

There's another drawn-out pause. Tomas lies down too, with Steve curling in against his stomach.

No one moves. Perhaps they're scared they'll break the moment. Or all of spacetime.

"…Well," Steve says, finally. "I guess this is the point at which we work out what happens next. Either we all fling on clothes and run in opposing directions, or…"

"…Or?" Carlos prompts.

Steve hesitates just a second and then replies, "…Or you give me ten minutes to go put the turkey in the oven and then we try all this again in a state when we might actually remember it afterwards…"

"…But without the demon summoning this time," Cecil adds.

"Awww," Kevin pouts. "But I thought you liked Azzie!"

Cecil glowers sideways at him. "I have seen quite enough of your demon for today, thank you very much."

Tomas collapses into some very inappropriate giggles, which gets him something of a look from Carlos.

"But… the rest of it?" Kevin prompts, with that hopeful glimmer in his eyes again.

They all exchange glances, and – for once – none of them needs to say a word.

Sometimes insane ideas can make the strangest sense.

***

It's quite a while later. _Quite_ a while.

Silence has descended again, though it feels weirdly comfortable now. Like the whole hue of reality has somehow changed.

"…Well…" Steve manages. "That was…"

"…Yeah," Tomas murmurs. "Oh yeah…"

"…And it really… you know…" Carlos adds.

"…It _definitely_ … you know…" Cecil concurs.

They all look at Kevin.

" _So_ ," he says, with a broad grin, "what are our plans for New Year..?"

**Author's Note:**

> And if you want to know what _really_ happened during the part none of them remembers... [you may want to take a look at this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1169755)... ;-)
> 
> (Shush, it was inevitable that I was going to write it eventually!)


End file.
